


Angel on My Shoulder

by Natalie L (nat1228)



Series: Make It Go Away [3]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, First Times, M/M, Series, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat1228/pseuds/Natalie%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair's seizures intensify.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel on My Shoulder

## Angel on My Shoulder

by Natalie L

Author's website:  <http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/TSslash.htm>

The Sentinel and its characters belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. This piece of fan fiction was written for the enjoyment of the author and fans of the show, not for profit.

Many thanks to Becky for the use of parts of her episode transcripts for "Warriors." You made my job much easier.  
Thanks also to my intrepid betas: Allison and Heather-Anne, for the original version, and Heather-Anne and Kimberly for this revised and expanded version. Couldn't do it without you!  


Previously published by Agent With Style

This story is a sequel to: Make It Go Away 

* * *

_'Cause I'm not angry, I'm not crying,_ _I'm just in over my head._  
 _And you could be the angel that stayed on my shoulder,_ _When all of the other angels left._

=====||===== 

"You look good. Gotta date?" Blair sized up his friend, who had put on a suit and tie for the evening. 

"Not exactly, but I _am_ going out. Is that a problem?" Jim asked, straightening his tie. 

Blair shook his head, gesturing with his hands as well, eager to prove he made no exclusive claims on Jim. "No. No. Not at all. Anybody I know?" 

"I doubt it. She's an old friend of Carolyn's, from college. She's just in town for a couple days, and I promised I'd meet with her for old-time's sake." Jim studied his friend and roommate closely. "You sure you're okay with this?" 

"I told you . . . no commitments. Go on. Have a good time." 

Jim turned to leave, but the feeling of foreboding that had crept into his mind wouldn't let go. "You sure?" 

"Good God, Jim. You'd think we were married! Go!" Blair made a shooing motion with his hands. "Get out of here. I've got papers to grade and a lesson plan to work up." 

"Okay. All right. I'm going," Jim announced, closing the door gently behind him as he exited. 

Once he was alone, Blair sat heavily on the couch, dropping his head into his hands. Ever since he had confessed his love for Jim, they had been dancing around each other as though performing some obscure mating ritual. Why hadn't he just kept his damn mouth shut? He could have used his considerable talent to come up with another excuse for his seizure. _Guess you weren't thinking straight, Sandburg,_ he berated himself. 

Settling on the couch in front of his laptop computer, he opened the file for the next day's lesson plan. Might as well get busy. . . . 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

As Jim threaded his way through the evening traffic, he tried to sort out his thoughts. It had only been five days since Blair had turned his whole world upside down with a confession of love, and a kiss that had darn near knocked his socks off. He hadn't been prepared for that revelation, nor for the seizure that had preceded it. He couldn't remember being more terrified. The problem was, he wasn't sure which had frightened him more: the seizure or the confession. 

Blair was an important part of his life. Ever since he had waltzed into Jim's world, nothing had remained the same. The man who once had been a loner now found himself with an indispensable partner--one who could control his rampant senses when he, himself, could not. One that had pulled his butt out of the fire more times than he could count. One that got _himself_ into more trouble than Jim had ever thought possible. One that had made the world a little warmer and safer by his presence. He remembered the times he'd nearly lost Blair to one psycho or another, and relived the terror those near-misses had wrung from his soul. But was that love? Was he so desensitized that he couldn't recognize what was right in front of his face? 

Pulling into a parking place in front of the hotel, he was met by a beautiful, olive-skinned brunette. "Sandra?" 

"Jim! It's so good to see you again!" The woman slipped into the passenger seat of the truck, and Jim pulled out into the traffic once more. "How long has it been? Six years. . . ? My goodness!" 

"How's Paul?" Jim inquired. "Is he still in the contracting business?" 

"Oh. Well, Paul and I divorced three years ago. No kids. No strings," Sandra told him with a sigh. "I heard about you and Carolyn. I'm really sorry." 

"Don't be. We're still friends. My work just got in the way, I guess." He turned to flash her a smile. 

"So. How are things with you? Still with the Cascade PD?" 

Jim nodded. "Yup, going on seven years now. I'm currently working in Major Crime." 

"How exciting! Still the loner, I suppose. 'Doesn't play well with others'." She chuckled, blushing slightly as she turned to look at the stern man sitting next to her. 

Jim smiled. "No, actually. I've got myself a partner. Well, technically, he's a civilian observer--an anthropology grad student at Rainier U." 

Sandra's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A college kid? For a partner? Jim, that doesn't sound like you at all." 

"Yeah, well, he has a way of working himself under your skin," Jim confessed. "You'd like him." 

"So, does this kid have a name?" 

"Blair Sandburg." 

Sandra noticed the ice blue eyes of her companion softening at the mention of the name. "He's special, isn't he? You care for him." 

"It's not what you think," Jim answered, a little too quickly. "He's helped me through some rough times, like any good partner would. I owe him my life, several times over." 

"Hmmm. . . ." Sandra answered, noncommittally. 

Fortunately for Jim, they had arrived at the restaurant. He pulled into a parking space near the doors, and escorted Sandra inside. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

Blair stared blankly at the flickering computer monitor. He'd been entering grades and comments for what seemed like hours and was struggling to concentrate. _Hope Jim's enjoying himself,_ he thought, _'cause I'm sure not._

Reaching up, he rubbed at his aching temples with his fingers. _Please, don't let me get one of those freaking migraines now!_ He stood and headed for the kitchen, intent on finding one of his herbal cures. Rummaging through the cupboards, he finally settled on brewing some chamomile tea. Nothing was going to touch this headache, but perhaps the hot drink would help relax him. 

He knew he ought to go to bed. Fighting this wasn't going to make it any easier. He pulled off his glasses, digging knuckles into his aching eyes. _Man, this really sucks!_ He trailed back out to the couch, mug of tea in hand. At the very least, he needed to save his work and shut down the computer. Sitting on the couch, he sipped at his tea before placing the mug on the table and turning to his laptop. 

Flicking a finger over the glidepad, he stopped the screensaver, and revealed the active document on the screen. As he opened the dropdown menu to "save," he froze, unable to continue. Oblivious to what was going on around him, Blair's eyes rolled up and he fell to the floor, hitting his head on the coffee table as he went down. The laptop, and a considerable number of papers, went with him. When the convulsions stopped, he lay deathly still. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

"Jim?" Sandra looked up from her meal when her companion stopped speaking in mid-sentence. "Is something wrong? Jim?" When her questioning didn't rouse him, she reached across the table for his hand, squeezing gently. 

The soft touch pulled him back from the edge of a sensory zone-out. "What? Oh, sorry. I don't know what got into me. Something just doesn't feel right. Excuse me a minute." He pulled his hand free, fishing his cell phone from a jacket pocket. Pushing the speed dial for home, he waited until the answering machine picked up, then snapped the phone shut. "I've got to go. Something's wrong." 

Sandra reached out, laying a hand protectively over Jim's. "What is it? Jim, talk to me." 

"Blair isn't answering the phone," the detective growled, obviously concerned. 

"So? Maybe he's asleep. Or maybe he went out. He's a grown man, Jim. I'm sure he's fine." 

"No." Jim shook his head sharply and pulled his hand from beneath Sandra's. "You don't understand. When he has school work, he slaves over it. He wouldn't go out. He may have fallen asleep, but he would have heard the phone and answered." 

"Maybe not. . . ." 

"You don't know Sandburg." He pushed his chair back and stood. "I've gotta go." Digging his wallet from his pocket, he extracted a handful of bills, tossing them on the table. "That should cover dinner. Can I take you home?" 

Sandra looked up at Jim's worried face. "No, thanks. If you're that sure something is wrong, you'd better go. I'll call a cab." As Jim turned to leave, she added, "Please call? Let me know if everything's okay?" 

"Yeah. Sure. Good-night, Sandra." Jim took off like the devil was on his heels. 

"Good-night," she called to his retreating back. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

Taking the stairs three at a time, Jim raced up to the loft. Nervous hands fumbled with the key, taking precious extra seconds to open the locked door. He entered the apartment like a charging bull. "Hey, Sandburg! You home?" he shouted. "Answer me, dammit!" The utter silence in the loft was unnerving. 

Stopping to take a deep breath, he centered himself. He hadn't even taken time to look around. The sound of a softly beating heart brought his attention to living room area, and the clutter around one of the couches. Running across the room, he knelt beside his fallen friend. "Damn! It happened again, didn't it, Sandburg? Why didn't you say something?" 

A bleeding gash on Blair's forehead and blood on the table were mute testimony to what had happened. Dialing "911" on his cell phone, Jim called for an ambulance. "We're not playing around anymore. You're going to the hospital," he told the unconscious man. 

He lifted the computer from the anthropologist's chest and gathered up the scattered papers. By the time the paramedics arrived, he had already performed a cursory exam, convincing himself that Blair had nothing more than a bad concussion. 

The medics performed their own exam, peppering Jim with questions as they checked Blair's vital signs. They loaded the young man onto a gurney and wheeled him down the hall to the elevator. 

Jim followed them out to the ambulance. 

"Let me ride along," he requested as they loaded the gurney. 

"Sorry, sir, but there just isn't enough room," the driver told him, swinging up into the cab. 

"You don't understand," Jim argued, desperate. "He wakes up from these episodes disoriented and frightened. I _need_ to be there." 

Despite the protests of the medics, Jim muscled his way inside and sat on the narrow bench along one side of the ambulance's medical bay. At this moment, he would have said or done anything to stay by Blair's side. If he never left again, it would be too soon. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

"It's going to be all right." Sandra placed a reassuring hand on Jim's forearm, stopping his incessant pacing. "How did you know something was wrong?" 

"We've got a . . . connection," Jim mumbled, distracted by his own thoughts. 

"Blair's a lucky young man to have you." She kissed him on the cheek. "Look. I need to leave. I got a call after you left, and I have to catch a flight back to Chicago." Jim nodded, but continued to search the hallway for a doctor. "You take care of him, okay?" 

"Yeah." 

"Good-bye, Jim." With a parting pat to Jim's arm, Sandra walked off, unnoticed by the distraught detective. 

As she disappeared into the elevator, the doctor finally appeared. "James Ellison?" 

"Yes. How's Blair, Doctor. . . ?" 

"Freeman." He shook Jim's hand in greeting. "Your friend is doing fine. He has a concussion, but nothing too serious. You mentioned he's had seizures recently?" 

"Yeah," Jim replied. "He told me he was diagnosed with epilepsy as a kid, but hadn't had any seizures for years. It came as quite a shock." 

"I can imagine. I'd like to hold him overnight for observation and to run some tests, but there's no reason he can't go home in the morning. I'd like to put him on Klonopin for a trial period; see how he responds. It's an anticonvulsant," he added by way of explanation. 

"Yeah, I know," Jim answered distractedly. "Anything. . . . Just get these damn seizures under control." 

"That's what we're trying to do, Mr. Ellison," Dr. Freeman reassured him. "Would you like to see Mr. Sandburg?" 

"Yes. Please." He followed as the doctor led him to a room down the hall. 

"Don't stay too long. He's drowsy and needs his rest." 

"Thanks, Doctor." Jim pushed the door open to the dim room, dialing up his senses to hear the reassuring beat of Blair's heart, and the soft susurration of his breath. Walking over to the bed, he brushed stray strands of wild hair from the high forehead, carefully avoiding the large bandage on the left side. 

Blair opened his eyes at the touch. "Jim?" 

"Yeah, Chief. I'm here. How're you feeling?" 

"Head hurts." 

"Why doesn't that surprise me? You whacked yourself a good one when you fell." 

"Did I. . . ?" 

"Have another seizure?" Jim finished for him. "Yeah, I think so. You knocked yourself unconscious when you fell off the couch." 

"Ouch." 

Jim chuckled. "I just can't leave you alone, can I?" 

Blair turned his head away from Jim, grimacing. "Sorry. I spoiled your evening, didn't I?" 

"No, you didn't spoil anything. Sandra's a great woman, but she's just a friend. If my meeting her for dinner bothered you, you should have said something." 

"We made a deal. I was just keeping up my end. You said you needed your space. I was just trying to give that to you." Tears welling in his eyes slid quietly down Blair's cheeks. "I'm sorry. I really screwed up this time." 

"You bet your sweet ass, you did! Dammit, Blair, if we're going to have a relationship, you've got to be honest with me. If you don't want me to go, say so!" 

"Don't go." The words were so soft, even Jim had to strain to hear. 

Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on the younger man's forehead. "I'm not going anywhere." He settled into the chair next to the bed, holding Blair's hand until the younger man's eyes finally fluttered shut, and sleep took him once more. Like the Blessed Protector Blair had once proclaimed him to be, Jim stood watch throughout the night, despite several attempts by the hospital staff to send him home. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

Dr. Freeman pressed a bottle into Blair's hand. "This is the lowest dosage available. Take one tablet, three times daily with food. I want to see you in a week to run some tests, and see how you're doing on the medication." 

Blair screwed up his face, pushing the bottle back toward the doctor. "I prefer not to take prescription medications. I like more natural remedies. Thanks, anyway." 

"This isn't negotiable," Jim stated, picking up the bottle and putting it in his pocket. "I'll see to it that he takes them, Doctor." 

"But, Jim. . . ." 

"No 'buts', Blair. I'm tired of worrying about you. You're going to do this for me, for _us_." 

"He's a damned dictator, you know," Blair addressed the doctor, tilting his head toward his partner. "Do this. Don't do that." 

"Sounds like just what the doctor ordered." The physician chuckled. "Take care, Blair. And take the medication. I'll see you in a week." 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

Blair balanced the small pill in his hand, reluctant to swallow it. 

Jim reached across the dinner table to rest a reassuring hand on the younger man's arm. "Take it, Blair. You promised." 

"But, Jim . . . they make me so tired," Blair sighed. "I _hate_ taking them!" 

"Then I'll tuck you into bed, and you can rest." Jim patted the arm under his hand and held Blair's defiant gaze. 

"I don't _want_ to rest, dammit! I want to spend some time with you!" 

Jim stood, taking Blair's free hand and pulling him to his feet. "Take it for me now, and I promise you won't regret it." 

Looking up into the smoldering blue eyes of his partner, Blair quickly popped the pill, following it with a swallow of water. 

Jim led his charge over to the couch and sat, pulling Blair down beside him. Cupping a cheek in the palm of his hand, he looked deeply into the wide, trusting eyes of his friend. "You," he began. "You are the most important person in my life. I must have been blind not to see it before." 

Blair leaned into the caress, his heart skipping a beat at the words that accompanied it; but, for once, he remained silent. 

"I couldn't believe what I'd heard, that night you told me you loved me. I've been trying to forget it, to ignore it, but it won't go away." Blair opened his mouth to speak, but Jim touched his lips with a fingertip, silencing him. "I've been processing, Blair. It takes time. I've never loved a man before. The idea takes some getting used to." 

Blair's mouth flew open a second time, but again, Jim silenced him. "Just can't sit quietly, can you?" he chuckled. "Let me finish. In my own roundabout way, I'm trying to tell you something important." 

Blair pressed his lips together, making a zipping motion with his hand. 

"I've had a hard time admitting to my feelings, but I . . . I . . . oh, hell. . . ." Words failing him, he pulled Blair onto his lap. Tangling fingers in the long, silky hair, he leaned down to capture the full lips with his own. Blair pressed his body close, opening himself to whatever Jim was willing to give. 

Finally, the embrace ended. "Whoa, man. That was _intense_!" Blair smiled up at his best friend. "Does this mean. . . ?" 

"That we're a couple? Yes." Jim caressed the slightly stubbled cheek with his thumb and hesitated briefly. "But, Blair, I still have issues. Some things are harder to overcome than others, you know? Up until you came into my life, I'd always considered myself straight." 

"I understand. Anything you want. We'll go at your pace." Blair's words tumbled over each other in his excitement. 

"One thing I want . . . I need . . . is for you to keep taking your medication." 

"Anything. Anything you want." Blair was willing to sell his soul, if necessary, to make the man holding him happy. 

"And you have to promise to tell me when something upsets you. We can't have any secrets between us." Blair nodded his agreement. "And this stays between us. It's nobody else's damn business." 

"No problem. My lips are sealed." 

Laughter erupted from deep within Jim's chest. "Now _that's_ something I'd love to see! My Blair, speechless." He smiled. 

_My Blair. He'd said, "My Blair"!_ The anthropologist could hardly believe his own ears. Maybe this was for real after all. He held his breath as Jim ran fingers through his hair, cupped his chin and looked deeply into his eyes. He began to tremble, and felt strong arms envelope him and pull him in close. He felt sheltered. Safe. Loved. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

Disorientation. The feeling enveloped him as he woke to the darkness in the small hours of the morning. Rolling over, Blair realized what was different. He was in Jim's bed. His roommate slept soundly beside him, a slight smile of satisfaction still gracing his stern features. 

A rush of warmth washed over Blair as he remembered Jim carrying him upstairs to the bedroom. There had been no sex, but Blair had never felt more cherished and loved. Their tentative caresses and passionate kisses were enough . . . for now. 

Just when Blair had felt everything in his life was going to hell, Jim had let him in, making everything right again. Sighing contentedly, Blair snuggled down, nestling against the man he loved, and knowing that, finally, his love was returned. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

"It's about time you woke up! We're burning daylight here," Jim greeted him as Blair came down the stairs later that morning. "Simon called. He needs us in this morning. You feeling up to it?" 

"Right as rain. Let's go!" Blair grabbed a bagel and chugged a cup of coffee on his way to grab his coat and be out the front door. 

"Not so fast. Come here." Jim patted the cushion on the couch next to him. "We need to talk." 

"'Bout what?" Blair did a one-eighty and walked across the room, settling himself beside his friend. 

"About telling Simon . . . about us." 

"I thought you didn't want to tell anybody." Blair's voice reflected his confusion. 

"Well, no, but I think Simon deserves to know. We confided my sentinel abilities to him," Jim reminded him. 

"Yeah, but we had to do that. He suspected something was going on with you. He doesn't have to know about this. Besides, there's barely an 'us' yet. We haven't _done_ anything, if you know what I mean." Blair felt an uncharacteristic reluctance to admit their fledgling relationship to anyone. 

"He can keep the secret, Blair," Jim argued. "Besides, he'll guess. He's smart, and way too close to the two of us. If we don't tell him, he _will_ figure it out. Then he'll be piss-ass mad we didn't trust him enough to say something." 

"I suppose. . . ." 

"You nervous?" 

"Yeah, I guess. A little," Blair admitted. 

Jim took his hand, cradling it in his own, larger one. "Would it help you if I said I was nervous, too?" He paused briefly, but not long enough to give the anthropologist time to reply. "I've got something for you." He pulled a small gift box from his pocket. 

"What's this? You didn't have to. . . ." 

"I _wanted_ to, Blair. It's not much. Just a token. I wanted you to know I was serious." 

"Serious?" Blair asked. "Serious about what?" He tore at the paper, revealing a small velvet box. 

"About us." Jim watched intently as the younger man slowly opened the box to reveal a small diamond ear stud. 

Stunned didn't even begin to cover what Blair was feeling as he stared at the sparkling bauble. He sat frozen in place as Jim fumbled to unfasten the top hoop in his left ear, and replace it with the stud. 

"When? I mean, well . . ." Blair stuttered as Jim's fingers worked at his ear. "When did you have time to go shopping? We just . . . we've barely . . ." His voice trailed off as Jim placed a quick kiss to his ear as he finished fastening the diamond in place. 

"While you were in the hospital," Jim responded, pulling Blair close. "When I came home from that date with Sandra to find you unconscious and bleeding, that's when I realized that you were the most important person in my life, and that I loved you, too. I wanted you to have a physical representation of that love, to carry with you always." 

"People are going to notice, Jim," Blair pointed out, snuggling down into the comfortable embrace. 

"Not with that hair, they won't," Jim chuckled, fingering the silken strands that hung loosely around Blair's face. "And if they do, you can just say your mom sent it to you as a birthday gift, or something." 

"Whoa! Hold up a minute!" Blair sat up, pushing away from his partner to look him in the eye. "I may obfuscate, but I don't _lie_!" 

"Then obfuscate your heart out. I trust you to come up with something." To stifle further protests, Jim leaned down and captured Blair's lips with his own, effectively silencing the chatty anthropologist. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

"This is going to be easy. You'll see," Jim assured his partner as they walked through the door into Major Crime. 

They had no sooner entered the bullpen area, when a loud voice greeted their arrival. "Ellison! Sandburg! My office, please." Simon waved to them over the heads of some passing detectives. 

Smiling, Jim placed a hand between Blair's shoulders and pushed him ahead, into the Captain's office. 

"Good to see you gentlemen again," Simon greeted the pair as they entered. "Welcome back, Blair. We missed you around here. Everything okay?" 

"Yeah, just fine, actually." Blair shifted uncomfortably. 

"I'm seeing to it he takes his meds," Jim added. 

Simon scowled at the stubborn police observer. "You got some ID on you now, Sandburg?" he asked. "I don't like surprises, you know." 

"Dog tag," the young man answered, pulling the medic alert tag from his shirt. "Less noticeable than a bracelet." He turned to Jim, giving him an "I'll get you for this" look. Jim grinned back at him, unrepentant. 

"Good. Then you're ready to get back to work?" the Captain asked. 

"Well, there _is_ one more thing, Simon," Jim began. 

"Yes?" the Captain prompted, when his lead detective seemed reluctant to continue. 

"It's personal, sir," Jim continued, glancing over at Blair who continued to shift uncomfortably back and forth on his feet. "It's gotta remain in this room, like the sentinel thing." 

"All right," Simon agreed. "Shoot." 

"Well, sir, you see, we . . . um. . . ." Words failed him momentarily. Blair was shuffling his feet, looking down at his shoes, distracting the detective. "Blair, give it rest, okay?" The shuffling stopped, but his partner refused to look up. 

"Okay. What's going on with you two?" Captain Banks was rapidly losing patience with the tongue-tied duo. 

"Well, sir, we thought you ought to know, because it could affect our performance, or your own decisions concerning us working together." 

"Tell me _WHAT_ , for Chrissakes?" 

"We're a couple, Simon." 

"A couple of _what_? Nut cases?" Banks looked at the two men as if they did, indeed, belong in a room with padded walls. 

"No, Simon. A couple. You know . . . together." 

"Together. . . ?" The Captain was beginning to understand, but wasn't sure he liked the way his thoughts were turning. "As in . . . lovers?" 

"Um, well . . . yeah. Sort of, yeah," Jim confirmed, hesitantly. "We, um, we've committed to each other, but haven't, um, consummated the union yet." He glanced over at Sandburg, who had turned beet red during the conversation. 

"You on board with this, Sandburg?" Banks turned to the younger man. 

Blair swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes." He choked on the word, and had to clear his throat. "It was my idea, actually," he confessed. 

"I should've known," the Captain groaned. "You do know that department policy forbids couples from working together. That includes committed same-sex couples." 

"I realize that, Simon," Jim said. "But nobody has to know, do they? We only told you because you know about the sentinel thing, about how close we've become because of that. I figured you'd guess about us, eventually." 

"You're probably right," Simon sighed. "You know, you've put me in a pretty tight spot." 

"I know, and I'm sorry. Honestly, Simon, I didn't see this coming, either." Jim looked over at his partner, who had remained uncommonly quiet throughout the exchange. 

"So what now? You two going to still be able to work together?" Simon asked. "Because, you know, if the work suffers, I _will_ give Sandburg his marching orders." 

"Nothing's going to change, Simon," Jim assured him. "You don't have to worry about us." 

"I sure as hell hope not." Sighing, the Captain shuffled through the files on his desk. "Here," he said, handing Jim a folder. "Your next case." 

"Thanks, Captain." He turned to leave, Blair close on his heels. 

"Hey, Sandburg!" Simon called, as Blair reached the door. "Nice earring." The Captain chuckled as Blair's hand instinctively went for his ear, fingering the new stud. The pair beat a hasty exit back to Jim's desk. 

"I told you he'd notice!" Blair hissed through clenched teeth. 

"Hell, Blair, what did you expect? We _told_ him! I think he took it rather well, don't you?" 

Blair shook his head in resignation. "If you say so." 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

"You _TOLD_ him! God! I can't believe you told him!" Blair flew around the loft, gesticulating wildly. 

"We discussed it. You agreed," Jim said, perplexed by his partner's behavior. "I thought you were okay with it." 

"Telling Simon we were a couple, yes. Telling him we hadn't _consummated_ our relationship? Jim, what were you thinking?" 

"I wasn't. I guess . . . I just wasn't. I'm sorry, Blair," Jim apologized, feeling helpless as he watched the bundle of energy stride back and forth across the room. "It just came out. I didn't mean to embarrass you like that." 

"Well, you did! Damn!" Blair continued pacing the room, blowing off steam. When he stopped to grind fists into his temples, Jim was immediately at his side. 

"Calm down, Blair. You're working yourself up over nothing." He pulled the fists down, replacing them with his own hands giving a gentle massage. "Don't do this to yourself. Simon's not going to say anything. Relax." He felt arms encircle his waist. Dropping his own arms to embrace his partner, he smiled. "You know, we can do something about that, if you're ready. . . ." He leaned down to plant a moist kiss against Blair's temple. 

Blair molded his body to Jim's, pressing the hard column of his arousal against Jim's thigh. Tilting tear-stained cheeks upward, he captured Jim's mouth, his tongue darting between open lips. 

Balanced on the razor's edge of sensory overload, the Sentinel pulled back. "How about we move this upstairs?" 

Taking Blair's hand, he led the willing young man to the upper level of the loft. 

Blair stopped at the top of the stairs, watching as his partner moved toward the bed. "What now?" 

The shy question elicited a smile from the Sentinel. "You're the guide. You tell me. . . ." He knelt on the bed and waited. 

"I need to see you." Blair approached the bed slowly and knelt beside Jim. 

The unexpected reticence in the young man's voice aroused Jim. As uncertain hands began to unbutton his shirt, he felt a long-denied aching in his groin. He covered the shaking hands with his own. "Let me help." He finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it off. Cool hands lovingly caressed his chest, ghosting over nipples that hardened to dusky-pink peaks beneath the touch. 

Blair leaned in to first kiss, then suckle at one erect nub, as his hands dropped lower to begin unbuckling Jim's belt. 

A sigh of relief issued from Jim's lips as his erection was finally freed from the tight denim prison. He gasped as cold fingers wrapped around his heated length, squeezing gently before beginning a slow slide up to the head, then back down to the base. 

"Good God, Blair," Jim swore through clenched teeth. "Are you always this cold?" He reached down to free Blair's hand from his cock, weaving his fingers together with the other man's. 

"Sorry," Blair apologized. "I guess I'm just nervous. This is new to me, too." 

"Then let's slow down a little, and see if we can't get you warmed up." Jim slid his free hand under Blair's shirt, dusting sensitive fingertips across the coarse, springy chest hair. 

Blair's head fell back and he gasped through parted lips at Jim's touch. Some minor maneuvers freed him of the shirt, allowing him to press skin against skin. 

"Better?" Jim asked, wrapping his arms around the smaller body, pulling Blair in even closer. As the young man nodded, Jim captured his mouth, darting his tongue between parted lips. He could feel the slow rise of his partner's body temperature, until Blair was panting and straining against him. He quickly divested Blair of the remainder of his clothing, and pulled him down onto the bed. 

Blair suddenly came alive in a flurry of arms and legs. Jim found himself captured and pulled against the rapidly heating body, his mouth devoured by fiery lips. When Blair's cock aligned with his, brushing against him, then pressing in close, Jim thought he would lose it right there. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. The hard, flat planes of Blair's chest and hips against his--so different from the women he'd held. The strong, muscled legs that held him in an iron grip; the hard, hot column of flesh pressed against him, leaking pre-come that felt like molten lava as it dripped down sensitized thighs, drove him to near frenzy. 

His hands found Blair's hair, and tangled themselves in the silken mass. He peppered the precious face with kisses, murmuring, "I love you. I love you," almost incoherently. Thrusting his hips, he rubbed his cock against his mate's, feeling Blair's responsive bucking beneath him. Almost before it had begun, it was over. Nearly simultaneous orgasms shook the two men, leaving them weak and breathless. 

Jim closed his eyes, and continued to hold Blair close until their ragged breathing began to even out. "I love you," he whispered, kissing closed eyelids. 

"I love you, too," Blair responded sleepily, squeezing Jim even closer as he settled underneath the blankets Jim had pulled over their cooling bodies. 

"Good-night, Love." Jim kissed the top of the head that rested serenely against his chest. 

~~oO0Oo~~ 

"So, Blair, how are things going for you?" Doctor Freeman asked. 

"Great." 

"And you're still taking the Klonopin three times daily?" 

"Jim sees to that." Blair laughed. 

The doctor scribbled some notes on a pad. "Any problems?" 

"Just the usual side effects you warned me about: drowsiness, a little irritability. Nothing too bad. We're coping." 

"And there have been no more seizures?" 

"Nope. Everything's under control. Jim refuses to let me get upset enough to trigger one, anyway. He's got an incredible way of calming me down." Blair's face lit up with a wistful smile. Shaking himself out of the memory of the night he and Jim had made love for the first time, he grinned at the doctor. "Everything's better now. Thanks." 

"Glad to hear it." Dr. Freeman set down his note pad and looked up at his patient. "Well, I guess I won't need to see you again, then, unless there are any more problems." 

"Don't worry, there won't be." Blair slid off the exam table and grabbed his coat. 

"Remember, Blair, you have to keep taking the medication," the doctor admonished. "This isn't something that gets better with time." 

"I know, Doctor. I'll behave." He smiled, lifting a hand to wave good-bye as he walked through the door. 

Dr. Freeman watched as his patient joined his partner, who had been waiting in the lounge. He grinned as the two wrapped arms around each other's waists and walked out of the clinic together. Love is a powerful motivator, he mused. 

_To be continued in Mark of the Shaman..._

* * *

End Angel on My Shoulder by Natalie L: nat1228@comcast.net

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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